


Three Little Words

by bexara



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Blow Jobs, Love Confessions, M/M, Romance, Shameless Smut, Takao being the idiot for once, sex at school
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-04
Updated: 2014-02-04
Packaged: 2018-01-11 03:09:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1167940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bexara/pseuds/bexara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Midorima doesn't mean to say those words, but when he does Takao's reaction is not what he expects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Little Words

**Author's Note:**

> Had a problem concentrating on my other fics so wrote this to take my mind off of them. Hope you enjoy it. Reminder that you can find me on [tumblr ](bexara.tumblr,com)or [twitter](https://twitter.com/pinkbookpirate) if you want to chat.

The first time Midorima says “I love you” it’s when he’s buried so deep inside Takao he can no longer tell if it’s his pleasure or Takao’s that he is feeling.

Their mouths are fused together, wet and hot and a little wild. Midorima prides himself on his control, on his ability to remain rational and calm, but that self-discipline ceases to exist when Takao is under him, accepting him, writhing and groaning and chanting against his lips, “ _Shin-chan, Shin-chan._ ”

Midorima’s body, his blood vessels, the very marrow in his bones crave, crave and burn and they drive the hips rutting into Takao, the hands skimming his ribs, the thumbs possessively scraping over his nipples.

The force of this hunger shakes Midorima because it isn’t him, he isn’t like this, except now he is. Because of Takao. Because of this shorter, mischievous, annoying man who forced Midorima to acknowledge him, to look at him, and Midorima did look, looked and looked until now he can no longer look away, even if he wants to. Which he doesn’t.

Desire is etched on that attractive, impish face, in those glittering silver eyes that saw and understood him before he ever really understood himself, and he’s dazzled by it.

Aroused.

“Shin-chan, please,” Takao’s voice is urgent and needy. For him. And Midorima just can’t  _take_  it anymore.

He thrusts deeper, harder, the friction electric and shocking, pleasure so intense it borders on pain ripping through him. Takao’s body and heat and scent enfold him, suckle him, draw him in and it feels fucking, yes that raw, primal word is appropriate, it feels  _fucking_  amazing, wonderful, soul shatteringly beautiful.

It feels like home. In a way nothing ever has before.

His heart clenches, and so does his body, orgasm clawing through him so violently it steals his breath, his reason, and suddenly he has to give voice to the gut-wrenching feelings exploding inside him.

“I love you.” He’s almost shouting as his large frame quakes and spasms, as he slams forward so hard he lifts Takao right off the bed.

Through the ecstasy pounding at him, he can see Takao’s brilliant eyes widen, his mouth part, and the muscles around Midorima’s sex clamp down, squeezing hard, extending his climax.

Takao cries out, low in his throat, answering shudders rippling across his body, and he follows Midorima over the edge.

Collapsing, Midorima burrows his face into the hollow of Takao’s throat, inhaling noisily, trying to regain his breath, his senses. He can feel Takao’s pulse racing against his lips and his tongue flicks out, tasting Takao’s heartbeat.

With a ragged moan, Takao arches against him. In a moment of crystal clarity, Midorima remembers the words he just practically screamed to the heavens. His face burns, but he searches inside himself and discovers it’s true. Takao the joker, the teasing irritant, the determined partner, the handsome star of all of his recent dirty dreams, has crawled right up inside his heart.

He loves Takao.

The realization is both terrifying and wondrous.

Midorima lifts his head, feeling like his heart is about to burst, needing to repeat his declaration for reasons he can't fathom.

But he doesn’t get the chance.

There is a look on Takao’s face, one he can’t decipher, and then the other man is pushing at his shoulders.

“I, I have to go.” Takao’s voice holds an edge of something that sounds close to desperation, and Midorima doesn’t understand that either.

Reaching for his glasses, he watches in confusion as Takao quickly dresses.

“Shouldn’t you take a shower first?” That’s not really what he should be asking, but Midorima is too bewildered to think of anything else.

“I’ll take one when I get home.” Takao doesn’t glance in Midorima’s direction, just shoves the homework Midorima had helped him with before they made love into his bag. “I’ll uh I’ll see you later.”

Takao is gone before Midorima can say anything else, leaving him alone in his room, alone in the bed already starting to cool, the heat from Takao’s body rapidly dissipating.

“What just happened?” Midorima asks aloud, thrown by Takao’s actions and, yes, a little hurt.

No one is there to respond, and Midorima has no answers either. He tries texting, and then calling Takao, that night and the next day, and the day after, all to no avail.

The weekend passes and he still cannot fathom Takao’s behavior. It bothers him more than he cares to admit, so much his self practice is a farce. He misses almost every shot he tries, and his confusion turns into ire.

When Monday rolls around, he’s worked up a mountain of anger and a plethora of things he intends to tell Takao but the bastard has the nerve to avoid him.

“Takao,” he catches the other man at their lockers first thing in the morning, “I need to—”

“Sorry, Midorima, I need to see Saka-sensei before class,” Takao waves weakly at him and races off.

Once more Midorima is left staring after Takao, and it hits him that Takao just called him by his family name instead of the usual, “Shin-chan.”

It rankles him.

How many times has he scolded Takao for calling him by that ridiculous pet name and now here he is peeved because Takao addresses him properly for once. The irony doesn’t escape him and it’s one more complaint he’s going to lay at Takao’s feet.

If he can actually corner the idiot.

In class, Takao won’t make eye contact, much less speak to him. Usually the guy prattles on like a magpie, resulting in Midorima telling him to “Shut up, Takao,” at least five times a day. The absence of his voice is conspicuous and dismaying. Midorima is unaccustomed to the silence and it doesn’t feel right,  _he_  doesn’t feel right.

Practice, of course, is an absolute nightmare.

They can’t connect at all. Takao’s passes don’t reach him. The senpai are furious. Well, so is Midorima, and when Miyaji starts rooting through Kimura’s bag for some pineapples to throw, this time at Takao, Midorima almost offers to run to Kimura’s fruit stand and grab some.

After an hour of this, Midorima is fed up. Takao is at the benches, wiping his face off with a towel, and Midorima stalks toward him.

“What is your problem today?” He grips the front of Takao’s shirt and yanks him close. Another out of character action.

He’s too loud and Ōtsubo looks their way. The captain is angry, his slashing dark eyebrows drawn together over a penetrating glare Midorima can practically feel cut into him.

“Takao, Midorima. Outside, now! Maybe laps around the track will help clear your heads. I’ll let you know when you can come back in.”

Tsking, Midorima lets go, turning on his heel to jog out of the gym.

Takao’s footsteps echo behind him as they reach the track. Soon, it’s pretty obvious Takao has no intention of running beside him. Midorima lowers his speed, and Takao matches it, staying several meters behind him. He lowers it again and again and each time Takao slows down, too, until what they are doing can no longer be classified as running but more of a fast walk.

Blood pressure rising, Midorima finally breaks.

Pivoting around, he ignores Takao’s surprised expression and grabs his wrist.

The building where the outdoor sports teams keep their equipment is nearby. Over Takao’s protests, he drags the shorter man to it, shoving him inside and slamming the door behind them.

Takao’s arm is still in his grasp, allowing him to spin Takao around and crowd him against the door.

“I’m not letting you out of here until you tell me why you are acting so strange.”

Midorima places his palms on either side of Takao’s head, caging him in place. This close he can see every lash surrounding Takao’s eyes, eyes whose pupils are so enlarged that just a sliver of stormy gray is visible.

“The captain and other senpai are going to get angry at us.” Takao’s gaze skitters away from his, infuriating him. “We should go back.”

“Don’t look away from me!” Midorima grabs Takao’s chin, forcing his head up. “Is it such a bad thing that I said those three words?”

The question bursts from his lips because he's put it together. It wasn't that hard to determine Takao began acting oddly only after Midorima's slip in bed.

Guilt flashes across Takao’s face, guilt and something akin to fear. At least Midorima thinks it is.

“You know, that was my first time ever saying something like that. The first time I have ever felt this way and you—”

He bites off the confession, flustered and aggravated and still bruised inside from Takao’s actions.

“Whatever,” he releases Takao and steps back, wrapping his pride and normal detachment around him like a shield. This is one reason he has never let anyone in because if you don't feel then you can't bleed. “If it bothers you that much, I will take it back. We can pretend it never happened, that we never happened, and just go back to how we were before.”

_Before you shattered my defenses, before you dug out a piece of my soul and replaced it with your glittering, troublesome presence._

Takao’s expression morphs from guilt and fear into panic. This time it’s he who reaches out, he who restrains Midorima.

“Wait, Shin-chan.”

Midorima’s knees almost buckle in relief when Takao calls him that name, and he can't even bring himself to care, stupidly glad to hear it.

“It’s not like that,” Takao continues, sounding alarmed and contrite. “It’s just, I wasn’t expecting you to say that and…”

For a man who almost never stops talking, he seems to struggle to find the right words.

“If you love me, then this isn’t just us playing around, being fuck buddies.”

Drawing up to his full height, Midorima’s voice registers his displeasure at Takao’s choice of words. “I have never once thought of us as  _fuck buddies_.” He spits the last part out in disgust.

“I got that. Now. But if we are in love then it could end, and if it ends then I can’t even be your friend anymore.” Takao’s breath hitches. “I don’t know what I would do if that happened.”

“Why are you borrowing trouble, idiot? Besides, you make it sound like you are already in love with me, too. This is my problem, not yours.”

“Pfft, Shin-chan, didn’t you know?” Takao smiles lopsidedly at him. “I fell in love with you a long time ago.”

When he hears Takao’s admission Midorima sort of begins to understand why the other man panicked. His heart rate ratchets and his palms start to sweat. 

“You really didn’t know.” The grin on Takao’s face widens, becomes the impish one Midorima has come to cherish. “And I thought you were supposed to be the smart one.”

“Shut up!” Midorima pushes up his glasses, needing something to do with his hands. “How am I supposed to know if you never say anything, fool?”

Eyes softening, Takao steps into Midorima and loops his arms around the bigger man’s waist.

“I’m sorry I freaked out. It’s just the thought of having to let you go upset me so much I couldn’t handle it.”

“You’re not the only who is scared, Takao.” Midorima lifts his arms and awkwardly returns the embrace. “But what happened to that optimism you normally have? You are usually so cheerful it’s annoying.”

Laughing, Takao rubs his face against Midorima’s chest. “That’s mean, Shin-chan.”

“You know you’re annoying.”

“Maybe a little.” Midorima can feel Takao’s smile and the knots in his stomach unravel.

“I am not an easy person to get along with.” Takao snorts at his understatement and Midorima frowns, popping him on the head. “Be quiet! As I was saying, I know I’m not the type to get along well with others, and I accepted it, but then just wouldn’t leave me alone and it made me … happy.”

He can’t believe he’s saying this embarrassing crap, but Takao seems to need the reassurance.

“I’m not Oha Asa. I can’t say what the future will hold, but I can say, without reservation, that I cannot imagine ever feeling about anyone else the way I feel about you. Stupid Takao.”

Takao freezes, inhaling deeply. Something hot and wet seeps into his shirt, and its not sweat. Midorima can feel the heat stinging his face and it’s confirmed when Takao looks up at him and giggles, “Shin-chan looks like a tomato." Though he's making a joke, Takao's eyes are suspiciously bright and damp.

“I take it back. I hate you.” He doesn't mean it, but Midorima needs to feign exasperation before he does something insane like kiss those tears from Takao's eyes.

“Nooo,” Takao cries out, squeezing him and wrapping strong, lithe legs around his waist to keep him from pulling away. “I’m sorry. I was just teasing you because you looked so cute.”

“Hmph.” Harrumphing, Midorima nudges his glasses up again, not touching that cute comment.

“Hey, can I say it now, then?” Talented, calloused hands cup his face. “Can I say I love you, Shin-chan?”

“You just did, idiot.”

Takao chuckles. “I guess I did. I love you, Shin-chan.”

“I get it.”

“I love you.”

“You don’t have to keep saying it.”

“I love you.”

Hot and happy and completely unable to hear Takao’s playful voice say those words one more time, he bends down and stops them with his mouth, swallowing Takao’s startled gasp.

This kiss is different than all the ones that have come before, maybe because they have affirmed their feelings for each other. It's sweet and tender. Profound, Midorima thinks. Fingers delve into his hair, blunt nails scoring his scalp, and Takao opens to him.

Slow and deep, Midorima gives Takao his tongue, feasting on the other’s lips, stroking and cajoling until Takao is breathless and clinging to him.

He meant it to be quick, gentle, a confirmation of their relationship, but fire races through him. He feels it in his belly, in the weight between his legs, in his veins. It sizzles along his skin and up his spine, stunning him with its ferocity.

They are at school, in a place where they can be discovered at any moment, and all he wants to do is bend Takao over and join their bodies together.

Takao is still attached to him, wrapped around him, and a firm, round backside is pressing down on his arousal, making it hard to think. It’s even harder when Takao rolls his hips, brushing his own erection against Midorima’s stomach.

He tears his mouth away. “We should stop.”

“We should.” Takao agrees, and immediately counters that agreement by rocking into him again and moaning.

Holding Takao like this and not being inside him is agony, torture.

“We don’t have condoms.”

“We don’t need them.”

Takao’s meaning is clear a moment later when he untangles himself from Midorima and then rides the taller man to the floor. Midorima hasn’t even caught his breath before his gym shorts are pushed down and Takao is kissing the inside of his thigh.

“Takao, what are you doing?” His voice is ragged, guttural.

“I think you know.” Takao’s tongue flicks out, tasting his skin. A groan rumbles in his chest and his hips lurch.

Fingers glide up his other leg, stopping short of his pelvis and the hard, aching flesh there.

“Should I continue, Shin-chan?”

Midorima knows he should say no, but finds his head nodding jerkily anyway.

With a happy sigh, Takao treks his hand through the curls at the juncture of Midorima’s thighs and takes hold of his sex. Midorima shudders at the touch and sucks in a breath as Takao leans down and traces his tongue over the tip. Of their own accord, his hands tangle in Takao’s hair, holding him in place.

Humming, Takao licks and laps while pumping his hand around the base of Midorima’s shaft. Desire roars through him, centering in his cock. Every touch of Takao’s hot, velvety tongue on him sharpens the heat, building it to a crescendo, making him pant and shiver.

And then Takao starts to suck, drawing him into the scorching, moist recess of that wicked mouth. All the way in, relaxing his throat and lowering his head, removing his hand so his nose brushes hair.

“ _Takao_.” It’s the only thing Midorima is coherent enough to say, the other man’s name, especially when Takao swallows, throat contracting around his throbbing flesh.

Midorima’s neck arches. He feels like he could go at any minute. Takao’s mouth is a glove of hot, wet silk and Midorima starts undulating into it with slow, shallow thrusts, unable to help himself.

Takao doesn’t complain, just curls his tongue around the head and down the vein Midorima knows is pulsing along his erection. The fingers come back, rotating around the column, sometimes in sync with the long, slow pulls and sometimes moving counter to them. Pre-cum dribbles from the crest and Takao laps it, capturing the cream on his tongue with a moan of approval.

“If, if you don’t stop, I’m going to— _aaahhh_.”

He can’t finish the warning. Takao’s mouth grins around him and then suckles him hard and fast, hand working Midorima’s cock at the same time.

Midorima shatters, orgasm raging through him, making him breathless, mindless, for seconds or an eternity. He can’t tell, caught up in the conflagration and satisfaction Takao has wrought in his body.

When he can think again, he reverses their positions, stripping Takao’s lower half and setting his mouth there. It doesn’t take long because Takao is already leaking, apparently pushed to the limit just from sucking Midorima off. He cums, spilling bitter, salty fluid over Midorima’s tongue. Making a face, Midorima swallows, not really enjoying the taste or feel of it sliding down his throat, but he does it. Because it’s Takao’s and the other man did it for him. Because Midorima loves him.

He looks up Takao’s body, taking in the flushed face, soft smile and slumberous eyes and his heart thuds harder than when he was climaxing.

Takao sits up, reaches for him, brings their lips close but Midorima shoves a hand between their bodies.

“No. I already have your nasty taste in my mouth. I don’t want mine too.”

“Well that’s not very romantic, Shin-chan,” Takao laughs, but changes course and nuzzles Midorima’s face instead.

He allows it, even sinking into the caress for a moment before pushing Takao away.

“Enough. We need to get back out there before the captain comes to check on us.”

Standing, he puts his clothes back in order, and Takao does the same, though he mumbles something about Midorima’s poistcoital behavior.

Ignoring him, Midorima walks to the door. His hand is on the knob, ready to turn it, but Takao stops him.

“Hey, Shin-chan.”

“What?”

“I really do love you. Thank you for loving me, too.”

“That’s not something you thank people for, idiot.”

But he throws a smile over his shoulder, not his usual smirk but a happy, gentle smile that makes Takao’s legs give right out.

Only after Midorima threatens to lock him in there does he wobble back to his feet, but Takao holds that smile close, wondering at it and already scheming to see it again.

 the end

 

 


End file.
